


lookin' for somethin' dumb to do (oh baby, i think i wanna marry you)

by hawksonfire



Category: Marvel
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, Archery, Arranged Marriage, Balancing on a log, Bisexual Sam Wilson, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Boxing, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Circus Performer Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton's Backstory, Clint Barton's Shitty Childhood, Deaf Clint Barton, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, Gay Bucky Barnes, Hand-To-Hand Combat, Happy Ending, Hunting a Deer, Lesbian Maria Hill, Lesbian Natasha Romanov, Lesbian Relationship, M/M, Marriage Competition, Minor Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, Minor Physical Abuse (pierce is a piece of shit), Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, POV Bucky Barnes, Pierce is a piece of shit, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Rumlow is a piece of shit, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: And then one more person steps forward, jamming a banner pole into the ground and climbing up it themself to attach the banner. The person drops to the ground and strides forward, bypassing the page entirely and walking straight up to the table Pierce and Bucky are sitting at. There’s something familiar about the way they walk, but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. Before he manages to pin it down, the stranger arrives at the table and drops a bag, full of gold by the sound of it, right in front of Pierce.“And who might you be?” Pierce asks, the vein in the side of his neck throbbing.The stranger tosses back their hood, revealing a chiselled jawline, messy blond hair, and blue eyes that Bucky has seen in his dreams nearly every night since he was nine years old. The world fades to a buzz in Bucky’s ears, drowning out every other sound save for the stranger’s voice.“Clint Barton,” he says, bowing low at the waist. “Duke of Waverly.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 34
Kudos: 211





	lookin' for somethin' dumb to do (oh baby, i think i wanna marry you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaraxBarton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/gifts).

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY!!!!! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a Robin Hood AU. I don't know what happened.

**Bucky**

“You’re fucking with me,” Bucky says in disbelief. Pierce slaps him. 

“Do _ not _ take that tone with me, James,” he sneers. “You know better than that.” Bucky swallows the retort sitting in his throat, cheek burning, and lifts his chin silently. “This is no joke. In one week’s time, there will be a contest. The winner receives a healthy sum of gold and your hand in marriage.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Pierce answers, examining his nails. He’s such a piece of shit, sitting at the head of the table and lording his damn money and status over Bucky. “Frankly, James, you’ve been a burden on my household since I took you in. Eating my food and living off of my generosity, and you’ve made no effort to contribute and make back some of what you owe.”

Bucky’s fist clenches underneath the table as Pierce pointedly doesn’t look at the neatly pinned back sleeve on the left side of his tunic. “Who will be participating?” He asks through clenched teeth.

Pierce smirks. “Whoever can afford to enter. The fee is eighty gold pieces.”

Bucky chokes. He nearly asks if Pierce is joking again, but he refrains himself - if only because he doesn’t want to get hit again. “That’s quite the fee,” he says instead, carefully.

“Yes, well,” Pierce waves a hand. “It’s more than you’re worth, but most of it will be going to replacing the provisions you’ve used up in your time here.”

“I see,” Bucky grits out. He spends the remainder of the meal fuming, careful to let none of it show on his face. Eighty gold pieces means that this contest is something only a few lords from the surrounding area will be able to enter - none of them families Bucky wishes to be a part of, save the Odinsons, but Thor, the elder, has his sights set on the Foster scientist’s daughter, and Loki, the younger brother, has never shown any interest in Bucky. He cannot rely on them to save him. “Will you permit me to go down to the village tomorrow, m’lord?” Bucky asks politely, the epithet burning his mouth. “I’d like to help out at the local orphanage.”

Pierce flaps a hand in the air, not paying attention. “Yes, yes. Take one of the guards with you. Can’t have you running around by yourself now, can we?”

“Thank you, m’lord,” Bucky says, somehow managing to keep his tone polite. Once the kitchen staff clears his plate, Bucky pushes his chair back from the table, bows to Pierce, then turns and walks back to his quarters, keeping his chin high and his face blank. He mechanically changes into his sleepclothes, then lights a red candle and sets it on the windowsill carefully. 

He waits a moment, and when he sees an answering flame in the window above the gardener’s living quarters, waves a hand in front of his flame, blocking it from view three times. The other flame is blocked twice, and mission accomplished, Bucky blows out his candle, shuts the window, and climbs into bed. He doesn’t sleep.

~~

Bucky manages to avoid being manhandled too roughly by Ward, the guard that Pierce chooses to take him to the village, and ditches him within moments, vanishing into the throngs of people crowding the streets. He’ll get hell for it later, but he needs this time without eyes on him. He makes his way to the local bookstore, slipping inside and immediately relaxing, tension draining from his body as the quiet surrounds him. 

“Buck! Back here!” The whispered words are still like a shout in the near-silent atmosphere, and Bucky has to stifle a grin as he begins to move towards the back of the store. Once there, he finds Steve and Wilson curled up in an armchair and Natalia eyeing them over the top of a book, sitting by herself on a small sofa. 

“I didn’t invite him,” Bucky says, lifting an eyebrow at Sam’s presence.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You knew I was going to tell him.”

“Stop whining and tell us what this is about, James,” Natalia says. “This is a very good book.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Pierce is marrying me off. He’s holding a contest and the winner gets me and some gold.”

The three of them stare at him in disbelief. “Can he even do that?” Wilson asks, confused. “You’re not his kin.”

Bucky shrugs, leaning back into the sofa. “No, but I am his ward. He took me in after - well. He took me in, so legally, he can do whatever he likes with me. I’m his property.”

“You are _ not _ property,” Natalia hisses, slamming her book shut. Steve and Sam stare at her, aghast, but Bucky just looks at her, understanding in his eyes. She closes her eyes, steadying herself, and when she opens them again, she’s back to the sly fox that Bucky would trust with his life. “There must be something we can do.”

“I’ll enter the contest,” Steve says, sitting up and dislodging Sam’s arm from around his shoulders. 

Bucky sees Sam open his mouth to protest and beats him to it. “Absolutely not, Steve. Knowing Pierce, he’s going to have rigged this so that someone he chooses ends up winning, and he’ll be able to exert as much control over my life as possible without me being in his house. That means the contest will be something that his choice excels at.”

“I could be good at it too,” Steve protests.

“Not to mention,” Bucky continues, “I would never do that to you and Wilson. Much as the guy annoys me, he’s good for you. I’ll have no part in destroying that piece of happiness.” 

“But Buck -” Steve tries. 

“The fee to participate is eighty gold pieces, Steve,” Bucky says flatly. “Last I checked, you don’t have that lying around.”

“But I do,” Sam says thoughtfully. Bucky looks at him in shock. 

“You don’t even like me, you think you could stand being married to me?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Sam scoffs, “But I’d rather put up with you than lose you to whoever Pierce picks out. Besides, it’s not like you’d hold me to it.”

“What about the Odinson boys?” Natalia cuts in. “Neither of them are married, and you’re friendly enough with Thor that he might consider it.”

Bucky’s already shaking his head. “Thor has his sights set on Jane Foster, and I’ve barely spoken to Loki since we were young. I doubt he would be willing to do this.” The four of them sit in silence, Bucky staring into the fire.

“So, what?” Steve bursts out, looking between them. “We’re just letting this happen? We’re just going to _ let _ Bucky be married off to some brutish cur and stay under Pierce’s thumb?”

“Of course not,” Sam reassures him, nuzzling behind Steve’s ear. Bucky politely averts his eyes, meeting Natalia’s gaze. Understanding passes between them and sorrow fills her eyes. 

“We will do no such thing,” she says abruptly, standing from the sofa. “I will speak to the Odinsons and explain the situation, and there are a few other people I believe could help. Let me reach out.”

Reluctantly, Bucky gives his permission. “You may ask if they would be willing,” he says. “But do not press them if they refuse. I would rather be married to Rumlow than steal someone else’s happiness.”

“Self-sacrificing buffoon,” Natalia says fondly. Her eyes dart to the window looking out onto the street. “You need to go,” she says hurriedly. “That brute is outside, and I do not want him in here with my books.”

Bucky snorts. “Ward can’t read.” 

Even Natalia cracks a smile at that one, but she does not cease moving him towards the door. “Nonetheless.” Bucky inclines his head to her and waves at Steve and Wilson, then turns to grab the door. “Have hope, James,” Natalia says softly, “All is not lost, not yet.”

“I lost my hope a long time ago,” Bucky says quietly, then he opens the door and steps outside, slipping across the street so it appears that he was coming out of the local brothel instead of the bookstore. 

“There you are,” Ward growls, grabbing his shoulder none too gently. “Ungrateful waste.” Bucky yanks himself loose, glaring at Ward. “I think it’s time to head back to the estate,” Ward says, grinning cruelly. “You’ve had enough time out.”

Bucky doesn’t argue, just meekly (furiously) follows Ward back to their horses. Running a hand through the mane of his white mare, he blows out a deep breath. Alpine nickers at him, turning her head and butting her nose against his cheek. “It’s alright, girl,” he murmurs. “I’m alright.” Ward doesn’t offer to help him onto his horse and Bucky doesn’t ask, swinging himself into the saddle with ease that suggests years of practice. 

Learning to ride with one hand had been interesting. Frustrating, and infuriating, and Bucky had nearly given up more than once, ready to throw down the reins in fury and walk everywhere. Pierce’s stablemaster, Coulson, simply watched him curse with an impassive look on his face, then handed him the reins and told him to try again. 

“What’s the point?” Bucky had said. “It’s not as though I’ll ever be able to ride again.”

“If you give up, if you stop,” Coulson had said quietly, “That means he wins. He doesn’t think you can do this, James. Why do you think he offered?” 

His words had put steel in Bucky’s spine, and he straightened, nodded, and attempted to climb back onto the horse. It hadn’t been Alpine, then, she had come later - but Bucky will never forget those words. Coulson had gifted him Alpine when he retired, and Bucky hasn’t ridden another horse since. He knows Pierce knows about her, but Bucky is very sure that he doesn’t know how attached to Alpine he is, or she’d be gone by now.

When they arrive back at Pierce’s estate, he takes care of her himself, rubbing her down and feeding her, like he does after every ride. He can only pray that whoever wins the contest will be kind enough to let him keep her. Alpine lets him bury his face in her mane to steady himself, but starts to chew on his hair after a while. “I know, girl,” he says, pulling away and stroking her nose, “I’ve been here too long.”

She snorts at him, blowing hair out of his face and he laughs. Giving her one final pat and sneaking in a sugar cube, he braces himself and enters the main house. He’s passing by the receiving room, praying to get by unnoticed, when - “James!”

“Bollocks,” he mumbles to himself, but he obediently enters the room. “Yes, m’lord?”

“Grant here tells me that he caught you leaving the local brothel today,” Pierce says, Ward smug beside him. 

“If I’m going to be married soon, m’lord,” Bucky says, keeping his voice respectful, “It seems prudent to get any urges out of the way now.”

“Yes, well, I suppose,” Pierce says, eyes drifting to Bucky’s lack of a left arm. His mouth curls pointedly, making Ward snicker, and Bucky ruthlessly suppresses the flush trying to creep up his neck. 

“If that’s all, m’lord,” he says quietly. “I was hoping to retire early.”

“Alright,” Pierce says dismissively, “Tomorrow I make the announcement of the contest. I expect you to be presentable and by my side when I do.”

Bucky bows and backs out of the room, barely keeping his face blank long enough to make it up the stairs. It doesn’t so much crack once he gets to his quarters - it’s more like it shatters. Abruptly, Bucky’s furious. He stands uselessly in the center of his room, clenching his fist repeatedly. It’s all he can do to not start screaming or throwing furniture out the window, but if he does that then Pierce and his men will come running. And that won’t end well.

After about five minutes of Bucky coming up with increasingly creative ways to kill Pierce and his men, Bucky finally closes his eyes, lets all the air out of his lungs in one breath, and stands perfectly still for a moment. When he opens his eyes again, he’s exhausted. Barely managing to get his sleepclothes on, he drags himself into bed and shuts his eyes.

After all, he must be presentable tomorrow.

~~

Bucky looks out over the gathered crowd, finding Steve’s familiar face glaring up at Pierce in moments, with Wilson right beside him with a slightly more impassive face. Natalia stands further back, closer to the edge of the crowd. Even from here, Bucky can read the tension in her frame as she watches Pierce announce this contest. There’s a low murmur of interest from the crowd, and Bucky picks out the loudest voices, cataloguing them in his mind for inspection. 

There’s Brock Rumlow, who smirks at Bucky when he catches him looking. Undoubtedly Pierce’s pick, likely going to have a hand in choosing what the contest is, and absolutely the _ last _man Bucky would ever want to shake hands with, let alone marry. 

Surprisingly, it’s Loki Odinson who catches his eye next, inclining his head gracefully at Bucky. He tilts his head in the direction of Natalia when Bucky raises an eyebrow, and skillfully conceals a smirk when Bucky rolls his eyes and nods in thanks. Loki’s not the worst person to be Bucky’s husband, certainly better than Rumlow, in any case. And Bucky’s heard that Loki has almost no interest in the pleasures of the flesh, so perhaps Bucky won’t have to worry about that should Loki win. They may even become friends, in time.

There are a few other people who catch his eye, but once Pierce announces the fee, most of them visibly lose their interest. Bucky doesn’t blame them. Eighty gold pieces is a hefty sum, and most of these people are having trouble making ends meet already.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad,” Pierce says once they’re done and the crowd is dispersing. “You garnered more interest than I thought you would. Perhaps I should raise the price, keep out the riffraff.”

“All due respect, m’lord, the villagers can barely put food on their tables most nights,” Bucky says politely. “None of them are able or willing to spend that much on another mouth to feed.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you’re right,” Pierce says disdainfully, like it’s not his job to make sure the people in his village are well-fed. He’s the lord of this village, has been since the Barton family died off, and all he does, year after year, is raise the taxes on the people so that he and his men can keep living in luxury while the child mortality rates get higher and higher. 

“What now, sir?” Ward asks from Pierce’s left side. 

“Now, we prepare,” Pierce says, turning on his heel and heading back towards the carriage. “James, I want you to take Dunheath and stay in town for the rest of the day. Try and make yourself approachable - you do _ want _ to get married, don’t you?” Without waiting for a response, Pierce strides away with Ward on his heel, leaving Bucky and Dunheath standing in the town square. 

Bucky eyes Dunheath. “Here’s four silver pieces, go get yourself a drink and meet me back here at sunset.” Dunheath pockets the coin, salutes sloppily and swaggers off, leaving Bucky alone with an entire day ahead of him. It’s good to know who the drunks are on Pierce’s staff, Bucky muses as he walks through town - makes them easier to bribe.

“Bucky!” Steve comes rushing up to him, shoving his way past the baker. “That was awful! you should’ve heard the way people were muttering about Pierce after he left. I think there might be a riot if he’s not careful.”

Bucky snorts, slinging his arm around Steve’s shoulders and steering him towards the bookshop. “Only you could be that excited about a riot, Stevie.”

“Pierce is a terrible man,” Steve insists, far too loudly. Bucky shushes him, pulling him inside the bookshop. Mercifully, Steve stays quiet until the door is closed and they’re at the back of the shop. “He is,” Steve mutters mulishly, throwing himself onto the couch. 

“Yeah, he is,” Bucky agrees, settling into an armchair. “But you can’t just say that out in the open like that, Steve, Pierce has ears everywhere and he can make your life a living hell.”

“He already makes me take care of his grounds, even though pretty much every plant he has sends me into a sneezing fit,” the smaller man grumbles, “Don’t see how it could get much worse.”

“He could fire you,” Bucky says bluntly, “Even with Wilson helping out, you’re barely able to pay the physicians for Sarah’s treatments.”

“I’d figure something out,” Steve says. “Sam shouldn’t be helping me anyway. It’s not his debt.”

“I’ve never met a man more stubborn than you, Steven Rogers,” Bucky declares. “Wilson loves you, as far as I’m aware, and you him. You two have been practically betrothed since we were twelve - let the man help you out. You know he does it only because he cares for you.”

“I know that!” Steve says. “I just...” he sighs. “I feel like a burden, Bucky. With all my ailments, I’m not going to be an easy husband to have. Fates be willing, I’ll live long enough to see Delilah bear a child that I can dote on for a while.”

In an instant, Bucky’s across the room and kneeling in front of Steve. “Steven Grant Rogers, you stop that talk right now. You are going to live until you’re old and wrinkled and crotchety, and I will drag your soul back from death myself if you think you can die before then.”

“I’m just being truthful, Buck,” Steve answers.

“No, you’re being melancholy,” Bucky retorts. “If you think I or Wilson, or hell - even Natalia will let you go before we’re ready, you clearly don’t think very highly of us.”

“What about you?” Steve says, suddenly furious and in Bucky’s face. “Just rolling over and accepting this, letting Pierce marry you off like he has _ any _ right to do so? Why aren’t you _ fighting _ this, Buck?”

“The only one I would have considered being wed to left,” Bucky answers. Steve looks at him, sorrow crossing his face. “Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky says, turning away, “I know he had good reason. His whole family died in that carriage crash and he was far too young to take over running the estate. It’s no wonder his brother sold to Pierce.”

“You’re allowed to be upset, Bucky,” Steve says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I was upset, Steve,” Bucky answers, “Fifteen years ago, when it happened. Then he left, and then so did I. I’ve accepted that any thoughts I may have had towards him were nothing more than a child’s fantasy.”

“You can’t really mean that.” Steve’s voice is gentle, like he’s speaking to a child. 

It drains all the anger out of Bucky and replaces it with longing. “I am not sure what I mean.” They stand in silence for a moment longer, Bucky lost in the happier memories of his childhood. Running amok with Steve and - other children, before they had any understanding of how cruel the world really was, rolling down hills and coming home covered in grass stains and bruises (to the chagrin of his mother) but with a giant smile on his face. 

He had a good childhood, Bucky remembers, up until he was fifteen. Then his father died suddenly, and his mother was left with a big estate, too many mouths to feed, and not enough food to feed them. That year was hard on his family, and the second he turned sixteen Bucky went and signed up for the army. He was so proud to bring home his enlistment bonus, but the look of devastation on his mother’s face when he handed it to her... He’ll never forget it.

It made things easier on them, having Bucky working, but eventually his Ma had to take his sisters and go live with her brother, who could afford to support them. Bucky hasn’t seen his sisters since then, and he was still serving when his Ma died so he missed her funeral. He’s not gotten any letters from his sisters either, and he figures they’ve got no use for a one-armed brother who missed his own mother’s funeral. He doesn’t blame them. 

Bucky shakes himself out of his memories, bumping Steve’s shoulder and grinning at him. “Shall we see if Natalia has any interesting books for us to peruse?” He makes a face and Steve snickers, the tension between them broken.

“By interesting, I assume you mean books with scantily clad bodies in them?” Steve inquires. 

Bucky winks. “What else could I mean?” They laugh brightly, and the rest of the day is spent reading amusing passages aloud to one another - Bucky does manage to make Steve turn a bright red when he teases him about Wilson wanting to try something in one of the more... adventurous books they do find. 

That’s how Natalia finds them, laying on the floor of her shop surrounded by books, snickering like children at the images within. “Boys,” she says dryly, looking down at them. 

“Ma’am,” Steve squeaks, still bright red. This sets them off again, and they laugh for nearly a minute while Natalia watches on amusedly. 

“It’s near sundown, James,” she says finally, prodding him with her toe.

“Bollocks!” Bucky scrambles up from the floor, dusting himself off. He pulls Steve, then Natalia into a hug quickly. “I likely won’t be allowed out again before the contest,” he says apologetically. “I’ll see you there?”

“Of course,” Steve says, puffing out his chest. “I must know who I’m going to have to scare away.” Natalia just nods, but the image of Steve scaring away Rumlow sears itself into Bucky’s brain and he’s still laughing to himself when he emerges in the town square to see Dunheath waiting. They fall into step silently, making it back to their stabled horses quickly. By the time they arrive at Pierce’s estate, Bucky barely has time to brush Alpine’s hair and rub her down before he’s being ushered into the house by some of the maids. 

“You’ll have to be quick washing up, sir,” Bella says quietly, hurrying him up the stairs. “Master Pierce has requested that you meet him in the dining room for dinner with a guest.”

“Thank you, Bella,” Bucky says sincerely. Not all of Pierce’s staff are bad. Some of the maids and kitchen staff he might even call friends. He washes up quickly, scrubbing the worst of the dirt and grime from his face, then going back into his room and allowing Bella to lace up his tunic. She’s seen the scars on what’s left of his arm enough that Bucky’s no longer self-conscious about them around her. 

“Off you go, now,” she says, “I’ll clean up here.” Bucky nods his thanks and dashes down the stairs, sliding into the dining room moments before Pierce enters through another door. Bucky stills his heaving chest and bows respectfully.

“I suppose you’ll do,” Pierce says, running a critical eye over him. “Can’t make something out of nothing.”

Bucky grits his teeth and remains silent, eyes swinging towards the main entrance of the room as the doors swing open. “Announcing Brock Rumlow, Earl of Ledgrenwich,” the page says loudly, voice ringing throughout the hall. In full regalia, Rumlow strides through the doors pompously, stopping in front of Pierce and bowing low. 

“My lord,” he says smoothly, eyes never once flicking to Bucky. “It’s an honour.”

Pierce waves a hand magnanimously. “The pleasure is all mine, Earl Rumlow. Please, have a seat. Dine with us.” Rumlow bows his head and the three of them take a seat at the table. Pierce rings a bell and the servants begin to bring out their meal. Pierce ignores them completely, as does Rumlow. Bucky is the only one who thanks John, the servant bringing his food, but otherwise, he tries to stay quiet. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your home,” Rumlow says smoothly.

“Of course,” Pierce says, digging into his meal. “I’ve invited Brock here today, James, because he’s expressed an interest in competing for your hand and I thought you two should get to know each other, should he win.” Pierce and Rumlow exchange smug grins, like it’s not completely obvious to Bucky that this was pre-planned.

“That was most kind of you, m’lord,” Bucky responds, keeping his eyes trained on his food. 

“So, James,” Rumlow says, leaning forward, “What do you like to do for fun?”

Bucky’s eyes dart to Pierce, who’s watching him impassively. “I volunteer at the local orphanage in my spare time,” he answers calmly. 

“Yes, I suppose you’d know how to deal with orphans,” Rumlow says callously. “I’ve never much cared for children, myself. Always seemed rather... unimportant, in the grand scheme of things.” Bucky’s teeth grind together.

“I find myself agreeing with you,” Pierce says, nodding. “Of course, there is something to be said for having an heir. James here just doesn’t have the head for numbers, poor thing, so I’ve decided to make the winner of the contest my heir.”

Rumlow nods and opens his mouth to respond, but Bucky tunes him out. He tunes them both out, focused on finishing his meal without emptying his stomach all over the table. He makes it through dinner, excusing himself as soon as he’s able and escaping from Rumlow’s oily stares and Pierce’s backhanded comments. He barricades himself in his room, stuffing a shirt along the crack at the bottom so no one can see the light of his candle. 

If Rumlow wins the contest, Bucky’s going to throw himself off a cliff. He could not handle being married to that man. It’s so clear to him that Pierce and Rumlow set this whole thing up so that Rumlow could inherit Pierce’s estate, thereby giving Pierce an heir that isn’t ‘deformed’. There’s no way that anyone in the village is going to beat Rumlow, not when he and Pierce have got most of the town on the payroll between them. 

Who knows, though. Maybe the fates will be kind and Bucky won’t have to marry Rumlow. With a sigh, Bucky blows out his candle and climbs into bed. A man can dream.

~~

The day of the contest finally arrives, and Bucky’s not sure he’s ever seen Pierce’s estate look this nice. Ribbons and banners are everywhere, there are vendors selling their wares in the courtyard - Pierce has invited the whole village up for this, wanting to make it as much a spectacle as he can. No doubt he’s getting a cut from everything the vendors sell. 

Bucky’s been scrubbed within an inch of his life, dressed in clothes far nicer than his usual attire, and had his hair pinned into a knot at the nape of his neck. He manages to paste on a smile as Pierce parades him through the courtyard then sits him down underneath a tent at the north end of the open space. “You are to stay here until the first event begins, understand?” Pierce hisses at him. 

Bucky nods silently, leaning back in his chair, and watches Pierce sweep across the courtyard. Surprisingly, Bucky’s only got one guard on him today. Macready’s one of the better ones, willing to look away when Natalia sidles up beside Bucky and slides him a book. “Don’t worry, James,” she says quietly, not looking at him. “Everything will turn out okay.”

“I hope you’re right, Natalia,” Bucky mutters, glancing down at the book. It’s a new one that he hasn’t read yet - it’ll keep him occupied, at least.

“When have you known me to be wrong?” Natalia’s wry amusement makes him snort, as always, but when he looks up she’s gone, slipping through the crowd like a leaf on the wind. She’s always been good at that, Bucky thinks. 

Pierce comes back up to the table and sits down beside Bucky. Quickly shoving the book under his leg, Bucky inclines his head. Pierce ignores him, which is probably for the best, then stands and claps his hands loudly. 

“People of Waverly,” he cries, holding his arms out wide. The villagers quiet down slowly, but it’s only when they’re completely silent that Pierce keeps talking. “We are here today to watch as I send my beloved ward, James, off to be wed to the lucky winner of today’s contest! It will consist of five rounds, each carefully chosen to demonstrate the skills one wants in a spouse. We have four suitors fighting for James’ hand today, and without further ado, here they are!”

“Brock Rumlow, Earl of Ledgrenwich,” the page shouts. Rumlow steps forward, unveiling his banner - a black flag with a red symbol on it. Bucky can’t quite make it out from here, but even the faint outline of it is enough to make him shudder in his seat. He applauds politely with the rest of the crowd.

“Maria Hill, Baroness of New York!” Bucky’s heard of Baroness Hill. Supposedly she runs her people firmly but fairly, and is extremely warrior-like in her dealings with other people. Hill steps forward, cutting an imposing figure in her well-tailored armour, and her banner rolls down - a white eagle on a silver background. It’s a shame Bucky isn’t interested in women. Although he supposes New York is far enough away from Pierce that it might be worth it.

“Loki Odinson, Duke of Asgard!” Asgard’s the next town over, and from what Bucky knows, they’re on relatively friendly terms with Pierce. Allies, if nothing else. Loki steps forward, holding some sort of horned helmet underneath his arm. Bucky has to hold in a laugh at the bored look on his face. If Loki wins, they will have many a laugh together, if nothing else.

“Samuel Wilson, heir to the Viscount of Orleans!” Bucky barely manages to stop himself from bolting upright in his chair. 

“Goddammit, Steve,” he mutters under his breath, fuming. He’s going to kill that stupid bastard. Wilson steps forward, unrolling his flag - a falcon crying out over a blue sky. For a moment, Bucky thinks that’s all the suitors.

And then one more person steps forward, jamming a banner pole into the ground and climbing up it themself to attach the banner. The person drops to the ground and strides forward, bypassing the page entirely and walking straight up to the table Pierce and Bucky are sitting at. There’s something familiar about the way they walk, but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. Before he manages to pin it down, the stranger arrives at the table and drops a bag, full of gold by the sound of it, right in front of Pierce. 

“And who might you be?” Pierce asks, the vein in the side of his neck throbbing. 

The stranger tosses back their hood, revealing a chiselled jawline, messy blond hair, and blue eyes that Bucky has seen in his dreams nearly every night since he was nine years old. The world fades to a buzz in Bucky’s ears, drowning out every other sound save for the stranger’s voice. 

“Clint Barton,” he says, bowing low at the waist. “Duke of Waverly.”

~~

Surprisingly, Pierce doesn’t erupt, and the storm that Bucky can see brewing stays in the distance a while longer. “The Barton name died out fifteen years ago,” Pierce grits out. Only Bucky can see his hands tightening on his robes beneath the table. 

“My parents died fifteen years ago,” Clint - no. Barton. Barton corrects Pierce with a grin. “I was sent to live with an aunt a few counties over, but when I heard that James Barnes was offering his hand in marriage, I had to come back.”

“I am Duke of Waverly now,” Pierce says, with a bite to it like he’s daring Cli - Barton to object. 

Barton holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I have no desire to become a Duke, milord. I simply wish the chance to win the hand of your ward. I have paid the entrance fee. Is there some other requirement I must meet before I may participate?”

Pierce shakes his head. “Welcome, Lord Barton.”

Again, Barton shakes his head. “I am no Lord, as I said. If you must give me a title, I am technically a knight.”

“Very well,” Pierce says through his teeth. He gestures to the page, who has been watching this interaction with an open mouth and wide eyes. 

Barton strides back to where his banner stands - just two rings of light purple on a background of a darker purple. “Sir Clint Barton,” the page cries, eliciting shouts of surprise from the gathered villagers, “Knighted by His Majesty the King.” Bucky’s still in shock at the table, and when Pierce glances at him it’s clear he can tell Bucky had no idea this would happen. 

“Apologies,” Pierce cries out, standing once again. “It appears we have five contestants today! I encourage you all to take a gander at the delicious food we have brought here today for you while you wait for the first challenge. It will begin in one hour in the north courtyard.” He claps his hands and somewhere, minstrels start playing music. Pierce vanishes into the house, robes flapping behind him as he no doubt goes to yell at some poor servant for not letting him know about this. 

“If you wish to get something to eat, sir,” Macready murmurs, “Now would be the time.”

Bucky gets up and starts to walk across the courtyard woodenly, still in shock. An arm loops through his and he startles, looking over to find Steve staring at him worriedly. He opens his mouth to speak but Bucky shakes his head. “Not here,” he mutters. Steve nods, and they continue walking, meandering through the courtyard until they come upon a small door that Bucky quickly pulls Steve through. 

“What the hell?” Steve says, eyes wide, once they’re through. 

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, pacing the short hallway desperately.

“What the _ hell_?” Steve repeats, louder and with more waving of his arms. 

“I don’t know!” Bucky responds, running a hand through his hair. “How did he even find out about this?”

“I told him,” Natalia says as she slips through the door, closing it silently behind her. 

“You did _ what_,” Bucky says flatly. 

“Clint is an old friend from before I met you,” Natalia says carefully, nodding at Bucky. “He owes me a favour, I knew he would not hold you to the marriage if you didn’t want it, and he lives far enough away that Pierce would have no idea you didn’t end up marrying him. I did not know he was the childhood friend you spoke of, or I would have asked beforehand.”

“Why didn’t you ask anyway?” Bucky growls.

She shrugs delicately. “Honestly? I thought you two would be a good fit. It’s nice to know I’m right.”

“You’re not,” Bucky says bitterly. “Clint left long before anything fit anywhere between us. We were friends because our parents were friends, Natalia. That’s it. Eventually, I fell head over heels in love with him, but he wasn’t allowed to see me anymore when his brother caught us asleep on a haybale together when we were thirteen.”

“Clint left here at fifteen,” Natalia says, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes,” Bucky agrees, “But we stopped seeing each other long before then. After he was banned from seeing me, we tried to keep meeting in secret. We met once a week, in the same spot at the same time, and then one week, he just stopped showing up. I went to our meeting spot every week for six months before I stopped.”

“You never told me that,” Steve says quietly.

“I even snuck out to his house once,” Bucky continues, “Just to see if maybe it was just a mistake. Maybe he had somehow gotten sick, or injured badly enough that stopped him from coming to see me. But I got caught. His brother caught me as I was trying to figure out a way over the fence, and he told me that Clint never wanted to see me again. That he hated me.” Bucky scoffs.

“Tell me you didn’t believe him,” Natalia says lowly.

“Of course I didn’t,” Bucky mutters, “I was fourteen and in love, why would I believe him? I snuck into Clint’s room the very next night, sure that if I could just _ see _ him, just once - I could learn the truth."

“And?” Steve asks. “Did you?”

“Clint looked me straight in the eye as I came through his window and told me the same thing that Barney had told me the night before. He hated me. He never wanted to see me again, and if I ever came around his house again, he’d have me locked up for thievery.” Bucky shrugs. “So I left. I stopped going to our meeting place every week, I ignored him whenever I saw him in town, and I buried my feelings for him at the bottom of my heart and pretended that I had never been in love with Clint Barton.”

“And then his parents died,” Steve says. 

Bucky nods. “And then his parents died. And fifteen-year-old Bucky thought that this was his chance. Surely it had been his father who was keeping us apart, and Clint hadn’t actually meant those things he said that night. So I grabbed the first horse I came across and bolted up to his house.” Bucky falls silent. 

“What happened?” Natalia asks.

“I got there just in time to see Clint and Barney climb into a carriage,” Bucky says dully. “When I yelled Clint’s name, I saw him turn around. He saw me, I know he did. He looked me dead in the eye - and then he turned away. The carriage left and I went home, and I signed up for the army the second I turned sixteen.”

“James -” Natalia starts, but a faint knocking on the door interrupts her. Bucky walks over and pulls it open, met with Macready’s face. 

“You’re out of time,” he says. Bucky nods. 

“I have to go,” he says to Steve and Natalia. 

Then, suddenly, “Ow, what the hell!” Steve complains, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Letting Wilson sign up for this shit?” Bucky hisses. “Are you joking, Steve?”

“We wanted to help!” Steve protests. 

“Giving up your happiness isn’t helping,” Bucky growls, and then he turns and leaves the small hallway, emerging into the sunlit air of the courtyard. Macready leads him to a table in the north courtyard overlooking the river, and by the time he sits down, his face is blank and his tone is even. 

“Have a nice lunch?” Pierce asks, raising an eyebrow.

“The meat pies are quite delicious,” Bucky replies airily.

Pierce harrumphs at him. Once more, he stands and claps his hands. “I hope you all enjoyed your meal!” He cries. “There is a day of merriment ahead to keep your attention, my friends! This competition will have five challenges, with the lowest scoring suitor in each round being disqualified. The last suitor standing at the end of the contest wins James’ hand in marriage! The first contest will be a test of balance, and our suitors are required to balance on a log in the middle of the river. First one to fall off their log is disqualified, last suitor standing gets a point in their favour!”

The logs are rolled out and set up, and the suitors prepare themselves, stripping down to their undergarments - Bucky can’t help but notice Barton’s musculature, well-tanned skin stretching all the way down to where Clint’s undergarments start and emerging out the other end with nary a patch of white skin to be seen. 

He must spend a lot of time nude in the sun, Bucky thinks, which is an _ entirely _ unwelcome train of thought that he shuts down viciously. His eyes skip over Wilson entirely, unwilling to even glance at Steve’s love, and settle on Loki. Loki’s more lean than muscled, although he still has good definition, despite being pale white. 

Rumlow has an attractive body, Bucky can admit. Unfortunately, his personality is so much like a dung beetle that it entirely cancels out the corded muscle that Bucky can see rippling on his chest. 

Maria Hill, despite Bucky’s lack of attraction to women, is exceedingly attractive. Her chest is covered by a simple gray wraparound, and her lower half is clad only in short pants that come to her mid-thigh, leaving her shoulders, stomach, and most of her legs exposed. She’s got more muscle than Loki does, which probably confirms the things Bucky’s heard about the way she runs New York. She strides toward the logs, unashamed and confident, ignoring the men jeering at her.

“It’s distasteful,” Pierce mutters suddenly, “for a woman to dress like that.”

“Would you rather she be naked?” Bucky asks, hiding his smirk when Pierce glares at him. 

Once each contestant has claimed a log and climbed to the top - Barton does this surprisingly quickly, which really shouldn’t be a surprise considering the way he climbed his banner pole earlier - servants holding the bottom so they don’t fall before the time begins, Pierce stands. “Let the contest... begin!” He claps his hands and the servants step away from the logs, immediately setting some of the logs wobbling.

(Barton’s is nearly perfectly still, not that Bucky notices.)

Two minutes in, Wilson falls to the ground with a crash, and Bucky holds his breath until the man gets back up and limps away, waving good-naturedly at the crowd. Well, at least he doesn’t have to share his husband with Steve, Bucky thinks, and immediately has to suppress a hysterical giggle.

Pierce looks at him oddly, and Bucky forces his expression to go blank. With a huff, Pierce turns back to the contest. Now that Wilson’s been disqualified, there’s really no need for each suitor to keep going. But they all appear to be competitive bastards, because they’re all staying atop their logs. Barton’s the only one who still isn’t wobbling, and when Bucky looks really close, he finds that Barton almost looks... bored?

Loki is the next to fall, a sneeze shaking his balance enough that he topples off his log, somehow managing to land gracefully on the ground below. Hill follows soon after that, and then it’s just Rumlow and Barton left. They appear to be talking, although Bucky can’t hear the words from the table, and then Barton laughs loudly.

Moments later, he stands on one foot atop his log and spread his arms. The crowd gasps, and Rumlow shakily tries the same thing. Once he manages that, Barton switches to the other leg, practically jumping over to it - all the while, his log barely moves an inch. It’s when Barton covers his eyes and does a little dance on top of the log that Rumlow loses, crashing to the ground and cursing so loudly once he gets there that even Bucky can hear his vile language.

Barton stays on top of his log for a few more minutes, moving from one trick to another - a handstand turns into a flip, which turns into one-armed pushups. Finally, Barton stands, bows with a large flourish, and flips off the log, landing on his feet on the ground to cheers from the surrounding people. 

“Seems rather show-offish to me,” Pierce sniffs. Bucky rolls his eyes, but nods politely in agreement when Pierce turns to him. “Congratulations, Sir Barton!” Pierce shouts over the noise, quieting the crowd. “You are the winner of the first contest! Sir Wilson, I’m afraid you are disqualified from the contest. You will be missed!” Wilson waves to the crowd and bows once, then disappears from sight - hopefully to go be with Steve, Bucky knows _ he’d _ be worried if his lover took a fall like that. “After a short break for our competitors to receive medical aid if they need it, we will return with the second contest!”

Once again, Pierce leaves Bucky alone at the table, but this time before he can escape, Maria Hill approaches him. “Baroness Hill,” Bucky says respectfully, inclining his head.

“Call me Maria,” she replies brusquely. “I’ll keep this short. I have no interest in men. As a whole, I find them irritating and mostly useless.”

“I’d have to agree with you there,” Bucky says dryly.

“However, a husband is useful in that he can speak on my behalf to those leaders who will not speak to a woman,” Maria says. “That is what you will do should I win this contest. I mean no offence, but I thought you should know what you’re getting into.”

“Well, this is a relief,” Bucky says. “Here I was, worried that you wanted to use me to make an heir and then I would die in some terrible accident after the child was born.”

“As if I’d keep you around that long,” Maria says, the corner of her mouth curling up. Bucky barks a laugh.

“I suppose I should be honest as well, then,” Bucky says, leaning forward slightly. “I have no interest in women. As a whole, I find them terrifying and far too competent.” Maria snorts. “But if you do win, I hope we can at least become friends. And regardless of your status at the end of this glorified auction, I have a friend who I think you would like. She shares the same view of men you do, and I think you’ll find her interesting at the very least.”

“Friends,” Maria says thoughtfully. “I don’t have many of those.”

“You may consider my name added to the list,” Bucky says, reaching out and clasping her hand warmly. “My friends call me Bucky.”

“And mine to yours,” she returns. “I would like to meet that friend of yours.”

“I’ll introduce you as soon as I’m able,” Bucky promises. With that, Maria strides away, still clad only in her undergarments and completely ignoring the looks that it is getting her.

“Terrifying woman, that one,” Macready says as they watch her walk away. 

“Yes,” Bucky agrees. “I rather like her.” Natalia will like her too, Bucky thinks with a smirk. He’s absolutely terrified of what they will accomplish together. “Macready,” Bucky starts.

“Yes, sir?”

“If Barton or Rumlow comes up here to talk to me, tell them they’re not allowed to talk to me until after the contest is over.”

“Lord Pierce made no such rule, sir,” Macready says carefully. Bucky meets his gaze steadily. “Understood, sir.”

That taken care of, Bucky leans back in his chair and pulls out the book Natalia gave to him before this whole thing started. He’s just getting into it when a shadow falls over his lap, blocking the sunlight. He looks up to find Steve and Sam, both with a worried expression on their face. “Stop with the face, you look like kicked puppies,” Bucky says, smirking.

“I’m real sorry,” Wilson says earnestly. “I’ve always had terrible balance.”

Bucky waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Half my options aren’t terrible, I’ve got a decent chance of making it out of here without wanting throw myself over a cliff. And let’s be honest, Wilson.” Sam blinks at him. “I would’ve hated sharing you with Steve anyway.”

Steve snorts. “Ass,” he says fondly. 

“You’re the ass,” Bucky scowls. “We agreed you weren’t going to do this, Steve. I told you, I want no part in taking away your happiness.”

“And I told you,” Steve starts, “I wasn’t going to let Pierce marry you off to some bastard just to keep you under his thumb. What kind of a best friend would that make me?”

“A smart one,” Bucky says softly. Seeing Pierce coming towards them from across the yard, he adds, “You should go.” The two of them leave before Pierce sees them, and Bucky takes note of which page of his book he’s on before tucking it back under his leg.

“Making friends?” Pierce asks, his lip curling into a sneer. 

“Lord Wilson was just telling me that he hoped I wasn’t too put out by him losing,” Bucky says, “I must confess, he’s not the sort that appeals to me.”

“Yes, well,” Pierce sniffs, “He never should have been allowed to participate, but his father is rather well-connected and would have made a fuss if I had declined his son’s coin.” Bucky hums but says nothing - he’s not sure he can keep the disgust out of his voice if he speaks. Again, Pierce stands and claps his hands to announce the second contest. 

Bucky tunes him out once he announces that it’ll be sword-fighting, focusing more on the contestant’s reactions to the news. Rumlow looks smug, no surprise there. He’s not seen a better swordsman during his time with Pierce - save perhaps himself, but Bucky hasn’t picked up a sword since he lost his arm.

Maria looks worried, Loki looks smug, and when Bucky finally lets himself look at Barton, he finds himself unable to read his face. Despite himself, Bucky finds himself hoping that Barton doesn’t, at the very least, get disqualified this round.

“Our first fight will be between Lord Rumlow and Lady Hill!” Pierce shouts. The two contestants face off against each other. They bow and draw their swords, then begin to fight. Maria lasts longer than Bucky thought she would, but Rumlow fights dirty. Bucky’s not the only one to scoff in disgust when he sees Rumlow jab her in the stomach with his elbow and slice her upper arm when she doubles over.

“It’s dishonourable, fightin’ like that,” Macready mutters quietly from his place beside Bucky. Bucky nods in agreement after making sure that Pierce isn’t paying attention. 

“And our winner is Lord Rumlow!” Pierce cries. “Lady Hill will face the loser of the second battle, and the loser of that fight will be disqualified. Next is Sir Barton and Lord Odinson!”

Bucky shifts in his seat. It’s not that he wants Loki to lose, it’s just... It would be amusing to see Barton kick Rumlow’s ass again. Barton and Loki face off, bowing to each other. It looks like they exchange words but Bucky can’t quite make out what they are from where he’s sitting, and then the fight commences. 

“He is rather good with a sword,” Macready comments absently.

Bucky hums, watching. “Loki’s holding back.”

“How can you tell?” Macready asks curiously. Bucky looks at him flatly. “Right. Sorry,” he says sheepishly. 

“You’re not wrong about Barton being good with a sword,” Bucky comments. “He’s definitely been trained, although I don’t recognize by who.” Down on the stone, Barton scratches a line across Loki’s collarbone, drawing blood and ending the fight. 

“Damn,” mutters Pierce. “Our winner! Lord Odinson shall face Lady Hill in the next battle, to give our two victors some time to rest.”

Loki and Maria’s battle flies by, ending in Maria as the victor and Loki with twin scratches across his collarbones. Barton and Rumlow face each other in the courtyard, bow, and draw their weapons. It’s not a quick fight, and by the ten-minute mark both Barton and Rumlow and panting, sweat dripping down their chests. (Bucky only looks a little.)

He’s on the edge of his seat watching the two men fight, when he realizes that he’s actually hoping for Barton to win. Damn. Unfortunately, Rumlow gets in a lucky strike past Barton’s guard, catching him in the shoulder. Bucky winces as Barton staggers back, hand pressed to the wound. It’s far deeper than should be allowed, but Bucky’s not holding out hope for Pierce to do anything about it. 

“Our winner, Lord Rumlow!” Pierce shouts. “Lord Odinson, you’ve been disqualified.” Once again, Pierce vanishes into the house, and this time Bucky notices Rumlow heading in that direction as well. Before he can see if Rumlow actually goes into the house, he sees Loki heading in his direction. 

“You fought well,” he says when Loki reaches him. 

“Bah,” Loki scoffs, “You and I both know I was not using my full skill.”

“Yes, why is that?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow.

Loki waves a hand. “A man does not reveal all his secrets, James. And you and I both know that we would not have made a good match.”

“We would have been friends, at the very least,” Bucky points out. 

“You are not friends with Barton?” Loki asks, his eyes searching Bucky’s face.

Bucky snorts. “At the moment, the most attractive contestant is Lady Hill. And she came over earlier to tell me that I would be a glorified placeholder for when idiot rulers refused to speak to her.”

“Ah,” Loki says, eyeing Maria thoughtfully.

“She is honest, at least,” Bucky sighs. 

“Honesty is not the only thing you should get out of a marriage, James,” Loki says. And then he winks. 

“She favours women, I believe,” Bucky says. “And if either of the other two, Rumlow in particular, try and lay a hand on me, I will not be the only one-armed man you know anymore.”

As he says that, Loki’s head snaps towards him, all pretenses of boredom gone from his face. “James, are you -”

“Asking for a second chance, Lord Odinson?” Pierce sits back down in his chair, fixing his gaze on Loki. Immediately, Loki’s mask falls back into place and he looks bored once again.

“Simply apologizing that I won’t be the one to sweep your ward off his feet,” Loki says lazily. He stands and bows with a flourish, dropping a kiss onto Bucky’s knuckles. “Until we meet again, Sir Barnes.”

“You two seem to get along rather well,” Pierce says suspiciously. 

Bucky shrugs, feigning indifference. “Our families were close when we were young. Lord Odinson is simply being polite.”

“I see,” Pierce mutters. “Shame he didn’t win.”

“He and I would have made a poor match,” Bucky says, shrugging. “Is the competition going to continue through the night? The sun is going down.”

Pierce looks up and blinks. Scowling, he stands once more. “People of Waverly! I invite you all to the south courtyard for an evening meal. Remaining competitors are welcome to join my ward and I in our manor for supper. Contests will begin again tomorrow at noon!” Pierce turns to Macready and says, “Take him back to his room and see that he’s cleaned up for supper. Bring him down once he’s ready.” With that, he walks away, leaving Bucky and Macready at their little table, alone.

“Do you mind if we wait a moment?” Bucky asks. “It’s a rather nice night out.”

Macready hesitates. “Only for a minute,” he says, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Bucky nods and sets off, wandering through the grounds until he comes to a massive old oak tree near the edges of the estate. He stands there for a while, forehead pressed to the rough bark of the old tree, breathing in the smell of a place he hasn’t been back to in years. It’s soothing, somehow. Grounding. 

“M’lord,” Macready prompts him gently. Bucky sighs and pulls away from the tree. 

“Thank you,” he says as they’re walking away. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the trash heap that supper is likely to be. 

He doesn’t notice the figure clad in purple that drops out of the tree once he’s gone, landing with nary a sound to indicate his presence. The figure turns and presses his forehead to the tree, exactly where Bucky’s forehead was mere moments ago. “I knew you remembered,” the figure murmurs. He turns to look at the house and then starts walking towards it, determination set into the very lines of his body.

~~

Dinner goes... about as well as can be expected, honestly. Bucky mostly sticks close to Maria, trusting Macready to keep Clint and Rumlow away from him. Luckily, Pierce and Rumlow are engaged in conversation, and they somehow manage to drag Clint in as well. Not that Bucky’s paying attention, of course.

“So,” says Maria, lacing her fingers together, “Tell me about this friend of yours.”

Bucky smiles. “Natalia. We met during the war and she followed me back to Waverly after. She owns the bookstore in town, not that she ever actually lets anyone buy anything from it.”

“She likes to read?” Maria asks, sitting up a tad straighter. 

“Oh, she loves it,” Bucky nods. “I can’t count the number of times she’s not shown up to somewhere if we had plans, only to find her with her nose buried in a book hours later. I’ve taken to just going and picking her up if we’re doing something,” Bucky laughs, “otherwise I know I won’t see her.”

The corner of Maria’s mouth turns up warmly. “She sounds... riveting.”

“She’s going to like you,” Bucky says, winking. Maria simply raises an eyebrow and takes a swig from her hip pouch. “I commend you for bringing that,” he says, nodding towards the pouch. “The drink here is not always fit for consumption.”

“I gathered as much,” Maria says dryly. “I can’t help but notice Lord Rumlow doesn’t seem to have an issue with it.” Indeed, when Bucky looks over at Rumlow - who has gotten progressively more drunk as the night progresses - he finds Rumlow’s cheeks to be flushed and his voice is audible even from the other end of the table.

“He’s never been able to hold his drink,” Bucky says flatly. “I’ll be surprised if he makes it to his own estate tonight.”

Maria laughs loudly, drawing attention. While Pierce and Rumlow are distracted, Bucky catches Macready’s eye, tilts his head at Rumlow and then at the kitchen. Macready nods, disappearing into the other room. Maria’s looking at him oddly when he turns to face her again. “You are an odd man, James Barnes,” she says thoughtfully.

“Life’s no fun otherwise,” Bucky responds. This sets her laughing again and Bucky grins, eyes drifting to the other end of the table and meeting Clint’s gaze. Bucky snaps his eyes back to Maria, cheeks burning. “I think I am going to retire early,” Bucky says, pushing his chair back from the table. “I shall see you all at the contest.”

Maria and Macready follow him out, and he wishes Maria a good night once they reach the courtyard and part ways. “All the female staff are gone for the night, m’lord,” Macready says quietly. 

“Good,” Bucky says, voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

“You are a good man, Sir Barnes,” Macready says suddenly. “This town would be a lot better off with you as Lord.”

“Bite your tongue!” Bucky whirls on Macready furiously. “Do not ever say something like that in these halls again, understand?” He prays Macready does.

Macready blinks, then nods slowly. “Yes sir. Apologies.” Bucky grunts at him, then turns around and begins walking to his room again. There are no more words spoken between them on the walk to Bucky’s quarters, and he shuts his door quietly, leaning his forehead against the wood. He allows himself one, two, three seconds of pressing his head into the door so hard it nearly hurts, then changes into his sleepclothes and climbs into bed.

If he still believed in the old gods, he’d pray to them and ask for Rumlow not to win tomorrow. Ask that they consider helping Maria - it wouldn’t be so bad to be married to her.

But he doesn’t believe in the old gods anymore, so he just rolls over and shuts his eyes.

~~

In the morning, Bucky is unceremoniously dragged out of bed, stuffed into clothes and brought down to the dining room, where Bella shoves a cup of coffee into his hands and waits for him to finish it (which he does in about two seconds) before taking it from his hand and pushing him gently into the room. 

“James!” Pierce says, gesturing towards the other end of the table. “We have a guest this morning.”

Bucky blearily turns his head in the direction Pierce is pointing, only to see Clint smiling sheepishly at him. “Lord Pierce was kind enough to invite me to break my fast with you this morning,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“How generous of him,” Bucky says flatly. He takes the seat at the table that keeps him equally as far from Clint as it does from Pierce before he can think better of it, then begins to eat the food set in front of him and ignores all attempts by Clint to start a conversation with him, relying on Pierce knowing that he’s not a morning person to get through it.

“James has never been all that polite in the mornings,” Pierce says delicately. Bucky ignores the dig and keeps eating, praying that Clint won’t try and defend him. He’s gotten far too used to Pierce trying to get a reaction out of him over the years. “Do you feel confident about the contest today, Sir Barton?”

“I might, if I knew what it was,” Clint says, grinning that grin of his that always got them out of trouble when they were young.

Pierce laughs. “Now, now,” he admonishes, “No special treatment.”

“I suppose I’ll muddle through,” Clint says.

“What do you think, James?” Pierce asks. “How do you think Sir Barton will do in today’s contests?”

Bucky looks up from his food. “I can only hope that everyone puts their best effort forth, m’lord.”

“So diplomatic,” Pierce snorts, “There might be hope for you yet.” 

Bucky finishes his food and stands. “May I be excused? I was hoping to walk about the grounds before the contests started.”

“Yes, yes,” Pierce waves a hand, “Take Macready with you.” Bucky bows his head and walks out of the room, stopping by the guard tower on the way to the stables to find Macready. When he arrives at the stables, Alpine huffs at him. 

“I know, girl,” Bucky says, combing her mane. “It’s been too long. I couldn’t get away.” He murmurs quietly to Alpine as he brushes her mane and tail, making sure to make the hair as silky as possible. 

He doesn’t notice Clint coming up behind him until Clint says, “Still talk to your horses, I see.” Bucky stiffens, his hand coming to a momentary pause on Alpine’s coat. He says nothing, planning on ignoring Clint until he leaves. “Aw, Bucky, c’mon,” Clint whines, moving closer, “Don’t be like that.”

Before he can stop himself, Bucky whirls around and snarls, “Only my _ friends _ call me Bucky. _ You _ can call me James.” 

Clint takes a step back, shock clear on his face at the hate in Bucky’s voice. Fuck. He looks really good. Tall and blond and tan and freckled - the kind of tan that means he spends a lot of time in the sun with as little clothing on as possible. Bucky noticed it during the balance challenge, but he was too far away to see how Clint had grown into his growth spurt, losing that gangliness that Bucky had always found so endearing when they were young and somehow managing to turn it into a ruggedness that has Bucky struggling to keep his train of thought.

“Was there something you wanted?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Just... to see how you were doing after all this time,” Clint says hesitantly. “It’s been so long, I thought -”

“You thought what?” Bucky interrupts. “Thought that I would just forget about what happened? That I would just get over it and you could come back and everything would be like it was? No, Clint. I won’t go through that again.”

Clint’s eyes go wide and he opens his mouth, but before he can respond, Macready steps in front of him, blocking Bucky from view. Bucky shudders in relief and turns back to Alpine, burying his face in her mane. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” Macready says firmly. There’s no response from Clint and when Bucky chances a look over his shoulder, Clint’s gone and Macready’s watching him carefully. “I am sorry,” he says, “He managed to sneak by me somehow.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Clint’s always been good at getting into places he’s not supposed to, it’s not your fault. Thank you.” 

He’s able to get another few minutes with Alpine in before Ward comes into the stable and says, “Contest’s starting. Lord Pierce wants you down at the east edge of the grounds.” He waits for Bucky to finish up with Alpine before leading him down to the east edge of the grounds. Once they arrive, Bucky sees three sets of weapons and hunting gear set up in front of the forest that borders Pierce’s estate.

Once he realizes that this will be a hunting contest, Bucky rolls his eyes. This contest was set up for Rumlow to win, clearly. The only thing Bucky can do is hope that if Rumlow does win this one, he won’t win the next one. Ward shoves him into the seat next to Pierce roughly, then moves to stand at Pierce’s other side. 

“Good, we can get started,” Pierce says. He stands and claps his hands - Bucky is really starting to hate that noise - and smiling, says, “People of Waverly! I thank you for coming back to witness these daring suitors compete for my ward’s hand! Today’s first contest will be a hunting contest. The first two suitors to bring back a deer win! The suitors have ten minutes to prepare themselves and their weapons before the contest begins.” He sits down again and looks out over the crowd. 

Bucky watches as Maria shakes her head in distaste before grabbing an odd round piece of wood, hollow in the center, and a few white-feather tipped darts. Ah. Blowdarts, then. His eyes move to Clint next, wanting to see what weapons he chooses despite himself. Clint watches Maria choose before grabbing a bow and some arrows. Rumlow takes nothing other than a few knives, looking smug. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if Pierce had sent a servant out last night to catch a deer and leave it somewhere for him to ensure his victory.

Pierce motions to a page standing near the weapons. The page says something and the three suitors stand in a line a bit away from the forest’s edge, waiting. A few seconds later, the page drops a white cloth and the three are off, running into the forest and disappearing within moments. 

Bucky blinks. Well, that was clearly not thought through. How long are they supposed to wait for them to come back out? Sighing, he leans his head on his fist and tries not to fall asleep in the warm sun. 

He dozes for a while before a clamour near the treeline snaps him out of it, and when he looks towards the trees, he sees Rumlow striding out smugly, a deer slung around his shoulders. The crowd cheers and Rumlow lets the deer fall to the ground, its neck at an odd angle. Bucky shakes his head in disgust - they should have left the poor animals alone.

It’s not long after that that the crowd starts to clamour again but when Bucky looks up this time, he is met with Clint coming out of the forest with Maria’s arm slung over his shoulder and blood on his hands. “Medic!” Clint cries, “I need a medic!” 

Bucky leaps to his feet, intending to check on Maria, but Pierce grabs his arm. “Sit down,” he hisses.

“She’s wounded!” Bucky says, gesturing towards Maria.

“Yes, and the medic will take care of it. Now, sit _ down_, James,” Pierce snarls.

Bucky reluctantly sits back down, mind racing. Clearly, Pierce doesn’t want him down there - but why? If he or Rumlow had _ anything _ to do with Maria’s injury - his attention is grabbed by movement at the treeline. Maria and Clint are speaking and gesturing frantically at each other, and after a few seconds, Clint throws up his hands, grabs his bow and Maria’s blow darts from the ground, and races back into the forest. 

He waits impatiently for Clint to get back, eyes scanning the treeline intently and fingers drumming on the wood of the table in front of him. Another ten minutes goes by before Bucky sees Clint emerging from the forest with a deer cradled in his arms. Pierce lets out a hiss of disappointment that Bucky barely hears as he runs towards the medic tent where Maria is sitting. “Maria!” He shouts, pushing through the crowd until he reaches her side. “Are you alright?”

“Nothing some time won’t fix,” she says stiffly, eyes trained on something over his shoulder.

“What happened?” Bucky asks.

Abruptly, Maria relaxes, tension draining out of her shoulders. “Rumlow happened,” she mutters, “Bastard snuck up behind me and stabbed me in the leg.”

“I hope his cock rots off,” Bucky snarls, hand curling into a fist.

“You cannot marry him, Bucky,” Maria says, squeezing his hand. 

“I have no intention of marrying Lord Rumlow,” Bucky snorts. “There are contingencies in place.”

Maria searches his face intently. “Good,” she says, releasing his hand. “If I may, Sir Barton would not be a terrible match.”

Bucky scoffs. “Compared to Rumlow, a dog would not be a terrible match.” 

Maria laughs. “I suppose that’s true.” Behind them, Pierce’s voice announces that Rumlow is the winner, Clint is the runner-up, and Maria is disqualified due to her injury. “No surprise there,” Maria sighs, “I’m only surprised that he didn’t disqualify Sir Barton as well.”

“The only reason he didn’t is because Clint went back and got a deer,” Bucky says, “Otherwise he would have, believe me.” 

“Sir Barton’s deer just ran back into the forest,” Maria says amusedly. 

Bucky snorts. “Clint never could stomach killing for the sake of killing,” he murmurs. A hand clamps down on his shoulder roughly and Bucky turns to see Ward glaring at him. 

“Lord Pierce wishes you to return to him,” Ward grits out. 

“I am simply conveying my apologies to Baroness Hill that she will be unable to continue in the competition,” Bucky says smoothly. “I shall return momentarily.”

“I shall mourn every day you are not by my side, Sir Barnes,” Maria says, eyes full of laughter.

“As shall I, Lady Hill,” Bucky says, lifting her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. He winks at her as he lowers her hand, then stands and strides out of the tent, ignoring Ward falling into step behind him. “Apologies, milord,” he says upon reaching Pierce, “I was simply -”

“If you ever disobey me in such a manner again,” Pierce snarls, eyes flashing, “You will not like the consequences.” Bucky nods stiffly and sits down, clenching his jaw so hard he’s almost worried he may crack a tooth. Pierce stands, catching the attention of the people milling about. “People of Waverly! The next contest shall be archery! Whoever has the most accurate shots shall gain a point!”

Bucky bites back a curse. Rumlow is a decent shot - better than decent, in fact. Bucky’s got no idea of Clint’s skill level with a bow, but if he loses this one... All Bucky can do is hope that Clint’s a good shot. He shoots a glance over to where Clint and Rumlow are preparing and sees a massive grin splitting Clint’s face. He looks almost... smug?

The two men are given their pick of bows from Pierce’s _ personal _ supply, and Rumlow immediately grabs the bow that Bucky knows to be the best of the bunch. He’s got no doubt that Pierce has sabotaged every other bow on that table, and he nearly gives up all hope of Rumlow not winning this competition - and then Clint pulls his own bow out of a case he had stashed in the med-tent.

Bucky understands the smug grin now. Anyone who has their own bow is clearly dedicated to archery - Pierce grinds his teeth next to Bucky, probably wishing he could change the competition. 

The targets are bales of hay with colourful painted rings on them - three white, two blue, two yellow, two red, and a small black dot in the center. Each ring is worth a certain amount of points, starting with one point for the outermost white ring and ending at ten points if the arrow hits the black dot. They have three arrows each, to be shot in turns until they’re done.

Rumlow and Clint line up a fair distance back from the targets and Pierce waves his hand, signalling for them to begin. Immediately, Rumlow draws back on his bow and fires after a split second of aiming, the arrow hitting the larger yellow ring. “Six points,” calls the herald. Clint fires next, taking slightly longer to aim than Rumlow, and hits nearly the same spot - closer to the centre, but still the outer yellow ring. “Six points,” calls the herald again.

Rumlow glares at Clint murderously, then lifts his bow and fires again. This time, it hits the outer red ring. “Eight points, bringing Lord Rumlow’s total to fourteen,” shouts the herald. Again, Clint matches the shot, hitting the same ring, only slightly closer to the center. “Eight points, bringing Sir Barton’s total to fourteen points as well,” cries the herald. “Next shot determines winner!”

There’s not a sound to be heard across the courtyard as Rumlow raises his bow again, this time taking his time to aim. He fires, the thunk of the arrow hitting the target disguised by the crowd’s gasp of shock. Bucky strains to see where it landed, but he’s too far away to get a clear look. “Nine points,” calls the herald after a short examination, “bringing Lord Rumlow’s total to twenty-three points! Sir Barton must hit the direct center if he is to win this round!”

Bucky’s stomach drops. Pierce snorts beside him. “Good luck with that,” he hears Pierce say. As much as Bucky hates to agree with Pierce - seriously, he’d rather lose his arm all over again - he’s right. The chances of Clint making that shot... Well, let’s just say Bucky has a better chance of his arm growing back.

Even so, he’s on the edge of his seat as Clint raises his bow and blows out a breath. Even from where he’s sitting, Bucky can see the look of intense concentration on Clint’s face. He finds himself holding his breath, nearly going light-headed by the time Clint fires the arrow. It seems to move in slow motion, flying through the air without straying from its destination and slamming into the target with a _ thunk_. 

The gathered townsfolk _ lose _ it. They start screaming and cheering, and Bucky can barely hear the herald shout over the clamour. “Ten points, bringing Sir Barton’s total to twenty-four points and making him the winner of this round! Lord Rumlow and Sir Barton are tied in this competition, at two points each!”

Bucky can’t help the grins that splits across his face. His cheeks actually hurt from the force of it, and he barely manages to swallow it, wiping his face clear of any emotion, before Pierce turns to him, snarling. “Don’t get too excited,” he growls, “Brock is going to win the next challenge, James, and then you two shall wed.” He pushes his chair back from the table with a screech, pulling the crowd’s attention towards him. “Excellent sportsmanship, gentlemen! The next round will be hand-to-hand combat, and will proceed after a short break!” With that, Pierce walks away from the table, once again heading towards the manor. 

“I’m going to get some water from the kitchen,” he says to Macready, “Would you like any?”

“No,” Macready says blankly, “Thank you, sir.” 

Bucky nods and sets off, wandering towards the house. Once he crosses the threshold, he breaks into a run, tearing through the hallways until he comes upon a nearly hidden door, unlocked and slightly ajar. He slips inside and crosses the room, grabbing a book from the bookcase in front of him and opening it.

“- don’t care what you have to do, Brock, you win this fight! We cannot lose James to some - some _ nobody _ like Barton.” Pierce is furious, Bucky can hear it in his voice.

“I’ll do what needs to be done,” Rumlow says. Bucky feels dirty just hearing the leer in his voice. 

“Kill him, if you have to,” Pierce says viciously. “I’ll not have James talking him into coming back and taking the title from me. Come, we’ll get you a dagger - not that you’ll need it. I doubt Barton’s ever fought another man in his life.”

Their voices fade to a murmur and Bucky freezes, not daring to breathe until the sound of their voices passes by him and heads back towards the courtyard. As soon as he can no longer hear them, Bucky shoves the book back onto the shelf and races back the way he came. He _ must _ reach Clint before Pierce and Rumlow make it back. 

It takes him a minute and a half to make it to the competitor’s tent and when he listens at the flap, he hears only Clint’s voice, murmuring quietly. Bucky slips inside, mouth already opening to warn Clint - but he comes to a dead stop when he sees Steve standing there, staring at him in shock. “Bucky?” Clint says softly, eyes wide. 

“I don’t have much time,” Bucky says curtly, cutting off whatever Steve was going to say, “Rumlow and Pierce are cheating. They’ve rigged this whole competition so that Rumlow will win, out of some sick desire to keep me here. Rumlow’s going to fight dirty this round, and he’ll have a knife.”

“Bucky, I -”

Bucky cuts Clint off. “As strong as my dislike for you is, Barton, my hatred for Rumlow and Pierce is far stronger. Do not let them win.” With that, he turns and leaves the tent, speedily walking back to his seat and slipping into it just as Pierce comes into view. 

It’s another five minutes before Pierce starts his speech, time spent moving Pierce, Bucky, and their tent much closer to the small area that’s been roped off for this. “Townsfolk of Waverly! I would like to thank you all for coming to watch these competitions over the last few days. I hope you have enjoyed them! Now, for our final competition! Hand-to-hand combat! Each competitor will be left with nothing but their underclothes, their fists and their wits to bring the other down. In order to win this competition and James’ hand, the competitor must bring his opponent to the ground and keep him there for a count of ten."

There’s a flurry of movement in the crowd as bets are placed and money exchanges hands, but Bucky barely notices it. He’s focused on Clint, methodically stripping down and folding his clothes neatly, then placing them on a small chair set aside for that purpose. Bucky finds his mouth going a tad dry at the sight of all that exposed skin - how on earth did Clint get all his skin the same golden-brown colour? And there’s so many freckles!

Firmly, Bucky shoves that thought way, way back into the depths of his mind and ignores the faint flush on his cheeks. He turns his focus back to the roped-off area, his gaze passing over Rumlow, who’s throwing punches at nothing, and lands on Clint - who is looking directly back at him. All the noise around them fades into the background as they stare at each other, and Bucky finds himself unable to look away, his eyes glued to the unreadable expression on Clint’s face.

Abruptly, Clint turns away and all the sound comes flooding back in. The herald rings a bell and the fight begins, leaving Bucky reeling from the change in pace. By the time he manages to get a hold of himself, both men have landed punches, and both men are bleeding. From what Bucky can tell, Rumlow appears to have the upper hand - but something’s off. 

Focusing, Bucky watches the two men fight, mulling over everything he notices in his head. And then it hits him. Clint’s holding back. He’s already missed two - no, three now - openings in Rumlow’s guard that he could have used to strike a painful, if not a crippling blow, to Rumlow’s side, and he’s let himself get hit more than a few times. Bucky leans forward, narrowing his eyes as Clint gets progressively bloodier and Rumlow gets progressively cockier. 

Suddenly, Rumlow slams his fist into Clint’s jaw in a vicious uppercut, sending him reeling backwards, shaking his head to try and clear the fog that comes with such a hit. Rumlow doesn’t go after him, clearly thinking him down and out, and instead turns and raises his arms, grinning smugly. 

That smug grin doesn’t last long, as when he turns back around Rumlow is met by Clint’s fist - first in his face, then to his stomach, and finally, to finish him off, Clint slams his knee into Rumlow’s face, knocking him to the floor, unconscious. Unlike Rumlow, Clint keeps his eyes on his opponent until the herald rings the bell again. “Townsfolk of Waverly,” the herald cries, grabbing Clint’s arm and pulling it above his head, “Your victor, Sir Clint Barton!”

The crowd’s cheers can probably be heard from the next county over, and Bucky’s sure that Pierce is a sight to behold next to him, if the cursing Bucky’s hearing is any indication. But all Bucky can do is watch Clint pull on his clothes and start walking towards them. By the time he’s reached them, Bucky’s managed to school his face into something resembling neutral. 

Clint’s grinning when he reaches Bucky, the smile lighting up his face and nearly making a return grin cross Bucky’s face before he catches himself. “Well met, Sir Barton,” he says coldly. Clint’s grin fails as he sees the ice in Bucky’s eyes, but then, before Pierce can shove him away, he darts in and presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, murmuring lowly, “Meet me at midnight. You know where.” 

He’s pulled away by the crowd before Bucky can answer, but their eyes stay locked on each other until Clint disappears into the throng of people. “Inside,” Pierce snarls, shoving Bucky towards the house, “Now.” Bucky follows along silently, already planning his route through the manor tonight. 

“Macready!” The man appears next to him, keeping pace as Pierce forces Bucky towards the manor. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Make sure Baroness Hill is introduced to Natalia,” Bucky says. “I made Maria a promise, and I always keep my word.”

“Of course, sir,” Macready says, bowing and slipping away. Pierce brings Bucky to his room, his grip on Bucky’s arm so tight it’s going to bruise. He shoves Bucky inside and slams the door, and not a second later, Bucky hears the sound of a guard stepping into place outside his door.

“Make sure he stays there,” Pierce growls, “All night.”

“Yes sir,” the guard says. Bucky rolls his eyes and steps away from the door. He found another way out of his room years ago - the trellis beside his window is quite easy to climb down, once you get the hang of it. Sighing, Bucky drops onto his bed and stares at the ceiling, already walking through the route he’ll take to get to the old oak tree to meet Clint. 

Bucky doesn’t know why he’s doing this - he owes Clint Barton nothing. And yet... he still finds himself immeasurably curious as to what Clint’s going to say. Despite their past, despite everything that resulted from Clint leaving, Bucky can’t bring himself to crush the tiny seed of hope sprouting in his chest - the one that hopes, despite all evidence to the contrary, that this meeting is going to shed some light on everything that happened. 

“You’re an idiot, Barnes,” he mutters to himself. But he still doesn’t crush that little seed.

~~

“You’re an _ idiot_, Barnes,” Bucky growls, furious. He’s been waiting outside in the shadow of the old oak tree for nearly a quarter of an hour now, midnight’s come and gone, and there’s no sign of Clint. Why he thought this was a good idea when it so clearly wasn’t, he’s not sure. Perhaps he was the one who was knocked unconscious in the last competition. Perhaps - 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when a figure comes hurrying up the path from the manor. Quietly, Bucky draws back into the shadows of the old tree, counting on the cloudy sky and dark night to hide his presence. The figure comes to a stop just beyond the circle of shadow extended by the tree’s leaves, identity hidden by the hood covering their face. “Bucky?” The figure hisses, pushing their hood back enough to reveal the blond hair and freckled face that Bucky wishes he didn’t know so well. “Are you there?”

“You’re late,” Bucky says flatly, stepping forward out of the shadows. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.”

“I told you I would,” Clint says, pushing his hood back all the way and grinning. 

“Yes, and the last time you promised me something went so well,” Bucky says coldly. 

Clint winces. “About that,” he starts. “Bucky, I want to apologize.”

Bucky blinks. “You _ what _.”

“I want to apologize,” Clint says seriously. “The way I treated you wasn’t okay, and although there is a reason for it, you still deserve an apology. I’m sorry.”

Just like that, Bucky finds that the rest of his anger drains away (most of it was gone as soon as Clint smiled at him, but no one except Bucky needs to know that). “You said there was a reason?” 

Clint takes a deep breath, then plunges into an explanation that has Bucky’s heart aching for him. “My dad... Well, he wasn’t a good man. Used to drink, and he was an angry drunk. Took his anger out on me, mostly, and my ma - though I tried to keep his attention away from her. I don’t know how he found out about us back then, but he did. Bucky, he...” Here, Clint hesitates, and when Bucky twitches, like he’s going to take a step towards him, Clint starts up again. “My dad threatened your mother and sisters, Bucky. He told me that if I kept seeing you, he’d - well. As I said, my dad was not a good man.”

Bucky feels sick. At the thought of what Clint’s father was going to do, yes, but also at what Clint must have gone through. To be so young and have _ that _ put on your shoulders? He shudders. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says quietly. 

“I tried to find a way to tell you, but him and Barney were watching me so closely I couldn’t get away. That night you snuck into my room? I knew my dad was listening from outside the door, and I had to get you out of there. So I said those terrible things, and you left.” Clint winces, but his voice doesn’t waver. Bucky can’t help but admire that about him.

“If it was your father that didn’t want you to see me, why did you not come to me once he had died?” Bucky asks, unable to stop hurt from filling his voice. Sometime during Clint’s explanation, they moved closer and now Bucky’s able to reach out and grab Clint, should he so choose.

“I wanted to,” Clint says quietly, “I wanted to come to you the second that the funeral was over and tell you everything.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Bucky’s voice cracks halfway through the sentence, turning his voice into a near-sob.

Clint grins and spreads his arms, and there’s something self-deprecating about it. “I’m broken, Buck,” he says, “That night you came to see me? After you left, they beat me until I was black and blue, until I couldn’t hear my own screams. It took months for me to recover, and even now I can’t hear very well. I’m having trouble reading your lips in this lighting, honestly.”

Bucky steps closer to Clint, ignoring the way his breathing speeds up as their cloaks swirl together, and pulls a small lantern out of his cloak. He lights it and raises it enough that it lights up his face, and by consequence, lights up Clint’s face as well. Bucky’s voice comes out as a squeak when he tries to speak, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Better?”

“Much,” Clint says, and this close to him Bucky can’t ignore the way the lantern’s light makes his eyes shine or the way the shadows dance over his freckles. “I wanted to come to you. You have no idea how badly I wanted to come to you. That day I saw you in my courtyard, staring at me with such hope in your eyes... It nearly crushed me to turn away.”

“Then why _ did _ you?” Bucky asks, voice fraught with emotion. He takes another step forward, bringing him close enough to Clint that their chests brush every time he breathes out. “Why didn’t you just _ tell _ me? I would have understood and we wouldn’t have wasted all this _ time_.”

“Barney.” The anger in Clint’s voice nearly makes Bucky take a step back, and perhaps Clint senses that because he reaches out and grabs hold of Bucky’s cloak, holding him in place. “Barney was a lot like my father,” Clint says quietly. “He told me the same things my father did, made the same threats. Seeing you in that courtyard the day we left... Bucky, it meant the world to me. I sent you letters when I could, explaining everything, but you never responded.”

“I joined the army after you left,” Bucky responds, “Moved around too much to get any post.”

“When Nat reached out about a friend of hers who needed a hand, I agreed before I even knew it was you. Hearing the name Waverly, it made me hope that whatever ended up happening here, maybe I’d at least get to see you. I never imagined...” He gestures hopelessly at their surroundings, releasing Bucky’s cloak and taking a step back. “I never imagined all this.”

“Clint,” Bucky says softly. 

“If you’re going to tell me to leave,” Clint begs, “At least let me kiss you. Just once. Just so I can see if it’s as good as I remembered. After tomorrow, when Pierce lets us go, I’ll pretend until we’re far enough away that he’ll have no hold over you and then you can go wherever you want. Please, just...” He takes a breath and cups Bucky’s face in his hand, face pleading. “Just let me have this one little thing.” 

Bucky’s too stunned to do anything but nod, and Clint searches his face for a moment longer before leaning down slightly and pressing their lips together gently. Bucky freezes, just for a second, and then he’s dropping the lantern on the ground and fisting his hand into the folds of Clint’s cloak. He kisses Clint back fiercely, pouring every ounce of hurt and pain and joy and love he feels into it, and they stumble backwards until Bucky’s back hits the tree. He lets Clint pin him there, knowing that he’s safe, surrounded by the leaves and branches of the tree, surrounded by Clint.

The kiss is... There aren’t words to describe it. It’s different than Bucky remembers from their childhood - those kisses were always rushed, frantic, stolen behind buildings or around a corner before they could be caught. This kiss... this is different. Still frantic, but not rushed. Not stolen. It’s soft and fierce and protective and loving, and underneath it all, there’s something that’s uniquely _ Clint_, something Bucky knows he can trust.

When Clint finally pulls away, taking a few steps back to put some space between them, Bucky has to stop himself from chasing after him - although he doesn’t manage to stop the small whine from escaping his throat. “That was...” Clint says, voice rough.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, fingers pressed to his mouth. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you,” he blurts out just as Clint opens his mouth. Clint blinks. “When you walked up to the table and pulled off your hood that first day, my heart stopped. Or maybe it started again, because honestly? I think it stopped that day you left. For the first time in a long time, I was hopeful that something good would come out of this. And then...” Now it’s his turn to take a breath. “And then everything came rushing back. All the hurt that I had bottled up inside from you leaving me, all the pain that I felt over being ignored, everything came bubbling back up to the top.”

“Bucky -” Clint starts to say something but Bucky holds up a hand.

“I need to say this. Please?” Clint nods and Bucky continues. “All those feelings, seeing you for the first time in years - it was... a lot. I shoved it all down, again, and just pretended that I hated you. But I didn’t. Not really. Clint, when I saw you... I wanted so badly for you to be the one to win, for you to be the one I wed. I think that’s all I’ve wanted since we were boys.” Bucky stops talking, staring at the ground to avoid seeing Clint’s face - which is why when he sees Clint’s boots stride forward and stop in front of him, he looks up, confused. “What -”

Whatever it is he was planning to say flies out of his head when Clint sweeps him into another kiss, this one a bruising and passionate kiss that leaves them both panting when Clint pulls back. “I never stopped loving you either,” he says with a sheepish smile, and Bucky can’t help but pull him into a kiss again.

~~

Hours later, Bucky climbs back into his room, lips kiss-swollen and hair mussed, with a flush on his cheeks and a smile on his face. He barely manages to stop himself from sighing like a lovesick fool (although that’s exactly what he is) and has had to pull his hand away from his neck, tracing the path of marks Clint left. They spent the whole night together, curled up in the hollow of the old oak tree, catching up on everything they’d missed over the years in hushed whispers, exchanging kisses that varied in heat - but they were all full of promises. Promises not to leave again, promises to never stop kissing him, promises, promises, promises.

Bucky’s happy. For the first time in a long time, he’s happy. “And where, exactly, have you been?” Pierce’s voice from behind him sends Bucky’s mood plummeting, and he braces himself before turning around, knowing that the evidence of his nightly activities is all over his face. He’s met by the furious glares of Pierce and Rumlow, both standing by his bed, arms crossed as they try to loom over him. 

Bucky pulls himself out of the defensive hunch he automatically sinks into around either of them, pulling himself up to his full height. “None of your business,” He sneers.

“Considering you’re my ward until you’re married, James,” Pierce snarls, “It _ is _ my business.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bucky retorts. Pierce slaps him. Or tries to, anyway. Bucky catches his hand in midair and shoves it back at him. “You don’t get to lay a hand on me _ any more_,” he snarls. 

Rumlow snorts. “Finally grew a spine, did you, _ Jamie_?” He sneers. “I’ll have fun beating that out of you.”

“If you lay a fucking hand on me,” Bucky says, his voice deadly still, “I’ll kick your ass.”

“Yeah?” Rumlow laughs meanly. “I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back, sweetheart. At least then it’d be a fair fight.” Pierce laughs at that.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, James,” Pierce says as Rumlow advances on Bucky. “Just agree to marry Brock here instead of that useless Barton boy, and I’ll tell him to go easy on you.”

“Too much work to get your hands dirty yourself, Pierce?” Bucky snarls. “Must be nice, having your bitch do all the dirty work.” Rumlow shouts in anger and throws himself at Bucky, but Bucky sidesteps his sloppy attack, plants a boot in Rumlow’s ass and shoves, knocking him back into Pierce and sending them both to the floor. 

“How dare you -” Pierce starts, shoving Rumlow off of him and scrambling upright. Bucky cuts him off with a punch to the nose, sending him back to the ground with a cry of pain. 

“Pathetic,” Bucky says in disgust, looking down at them. “You’re pathetic.” He steps around them and heads towards the door, stopping only to grab his meagre savings from underneath his mattress, as well as the few personal things he keeps shoved in a small rucksack underneath his wardrobe.

“You’ll regret this, James!” Pierce cries nasally, holding a handkerchief to his nose to staunch the flow of blood.

Bucky shakes his head, not even bothering to look back. “No, Pierce,” he says calmly, “I don’t think I will. Don’t follow me, or next time I’ll break more than your nose.” Stepping out of his room and closing the door behind him, Bucky comes face to face with Macready. 

“Sir,” Macready says, bowing slightly and moving aside to let him pass. “Is everything alright?”

“Never been better,” Bucky says pleasantly. “I do believe that Lord Pierce isn’t feeling well, however. And Sir Rumlow may have had a bit much to drink.”

“Understood, sir,” Macready says, nodding sharply. He hesitates a moment, and then, “Are you going to be alright?”

“I think so,” Bucky says, a grin tugging at his lips. “I think I’m going to be just fine.”

~~

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t even have to knock when he reaches Natalia’s bookstore. It’s Maria that opens the door, and she eyes Bucky consideringly before ushering him inside. “What brings you down here so late at night?” She asks, leading him towards the back of the store.

As they go around a shelf, Bucky notices two things. One, Maria is in what looks to be her pyjamas - as is Natalia, who’s sitting on a blanket spread out by the fireplace. Two, Clint’s sprawled across a couch, but he springs upright when he sees Bucky. “I broke Pierce’s nose and stole Clint’s winnings and my horse,” Bucky says calmly, moving towards Clint as he sheds his cloak. “I need a place to stay.”

“You can stay with me!” Clint blurts. Bucky raises an eyebrow. “And I’m staying with Nat, so -”

“You can stay here,” Nat says, smirking. She lifts an arm and Maria slides under it lithely. 

“I’m grateful for the offer,” Bucky starts, letting Clint run his hands down Bucky’s sides under the pretense of warming him up - Bucky’s perfectly aware that Clint’s searching for injuries on him, but he won’t find any. “But Pierce knows about my friendship with you. This is the first place he’ll look.”

“Steve and Sam are on their way,” Maria injects.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at Nat. She shrugs unapologetically. “We thought Pierce might try something. We needed a plan to get you out of there, but it looks like you managed. Did you say you broke Pierce’s nose?”

Bucky grins. “Yeah. Kicked Rumlow’s ass too. Literally.”

Clint snorts, tugging him down onto the couch. “And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky assures him, “They didn’t land a single blow. It probably isn’t a good idea for me to stay in Waverly, though.” Before he can continue, someone knocks at the shop door. Nat gets up to answer it, coming back with Steve and Sam in tow. 

“Bucky!” Steve says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Broke Pierce’s nose and stole some stuff,” Bucky shrugs, smirking, “Figured I couldn’t stay there.” Steve barks a laugh and Sam shakes his head. Turning to Clint, Bucky reaches into his cloak and pulls out a heavy bag. “That reminds me, this is for you.”

“What is it?” Clint asks, taking the bag from Bucky. When he opens it, his eyes go wide.

“Pierce was going to give a hefty sum of coin to the person who won my hand,” Bucky answers, “Figured he might change his mind after tonight, so I took it before he could. It’s yours, if you want it.” _ So am I_, he doesn’t say, but Clint hears it anyway.

“This is... a lot of money,” Clint says with uncertainty. “I wouldn’t know what to do with it all.”

“Put it back into the community,” Natalia says thoughtfully. “They’ve been taxed to hell and back, and I know a lot of families who could use the coin.”

Clint hesitates, glancing at Bucky. “It’s Bucky’s money,” he says, pushing it back at Bucky. “I won’t take money like he’s some sort of sale, he’s more than that.” _ We’re more than that_, his eyes say, and Bucky smiles at him softly. 

He takes the bag from Clint and pushes it into Nat’s hands, going right back to holding Clint’s hand after. “Give it to the people who need it,” he says.  
  
“Pierce is going to be coming for us,” Sam points out. “All of us.”

“We could take him,” Steve says fiercely. Always the first to offer himself in a fight, that one. Bucky grins at him.

“Him and all his men?” He asks. 

Steve wilts. “Maybe not,” he admits.

“I think it’s time Waverly had a new Lord,” Bucky says, looking at Sam. Every eye in the room turns to Sam, who looks up from where he’s been playing with Steve’s hair and blinks. 

“Me?” He asks incredulously. 

“You,” Bucky agrees. “You’re an asshole, but you’re a fair asshole. If Pierce dies and there’s no one to take his place, the title goes to whoever takes it. Or whoever buys it.”

“Pierce would never sell to me,” Sam argues.

“True,” Bucky agrees. “But I happen to know he was planning on selling to Rumlow after the competition, and I just so happened to pass by the room where Pierce keeps all his valuables when I was leaving. I also happen to know a master forger.”

Sam’s eyes flick to Natalia, who just tilts her head and smiles prettily. “What if he challenges it?” 

Bucky shrugs. “He won’t have the chance to,” he says. “The kitchen staff - the whole house staff, actually - they’re all tired of the way he runs things, and by the time Pierce manages to pull himself together enough to come down here, we’ll all be gone and the meal waiting for him when he gets back to the manor will be his last.”

“And you know this... for a fact,” Maria says. It’s not a question.

“I do,” Bucky answers. “Unfortunately, Lord Pierce is going to have a heart attack in his chambers tonight.”

“And Rumlow?” Clint asks, his hand tightening on Bucky’s. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and Bucky’s having trouble reading his voice. 

“Rumlow will be caught by the guards trying to take advantage of a serving girl, and will be punished according to Waverly law,” Bucky says. When he looks at Clint’s face, there’s no judgement there, only understanding and acceptance, and Bucky nearly sags in relief. 

“Seems like you’ve got all this under control,” Steve says neutrally. 

“I’ve been planning my escape since the beginning of this damn competition,” Bucky says with a half-smirk.

“You two should go,” Natalia says suddenly, and when Bucky turns to ask why, he hears hoofbeats thundering in the distance, growing closer with every passing second. “Now,” she adds.

“We’ll be back,” Bucky promises. “Couldn’t miss my best pal being sworn in as Lord Steven Wilson, could I?” He winks at Steve, snickering at the blush that rises on his and Sam’s cheeks, then pulls his cloak around his shoulders and stands. “You comin’, sweetheart?” He asks, holding out a hand to Clint. 

There’s half a second where he thinks Clint is going to refuse, and then Clint grabs his hand and stands with a smirk. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says. 

~~

**EIGHT MONTHS LATER**

He rides into town, hood up and head down. Wouldn’t do for word to get around that he’s back. He tosses a coin to the stablehand, runs a hand down his horse’s neck gently, and heads off, starting the long trek up to the newly christened Wilson manor. The closer he gets, the more crowded the road, filling with people of all ranks and statuses. All of them are carrying some form of a gift, whether it’s food or animals or some handmade object. He laughs to himself, knowing that none of these things will go to waste. 

When he arrives at the manor, he slips around back and picks the lock on the door, closing it gently behind him. He heads up the stairs, stepping aside to let a group of maids pass him by with a nod of his head, then continuing along the hallway until he reaches a door. Muffled voices make their way through the thick wood, and he raises his hand to knock. 

He hesitates for only a moment, then shakes his head and pounds his fist on the door. “If that’s Wilson, you’re not allowed in!” A voice calls out. He knocks again. The door flies open and Natalia stands in front of him, hands on her hips and an unforgiving look on her face. “You’re late,” she says finally.

Bucky looks up from beneath his hood, grinning. “Couldn’t be helped,” he explains as she lets him into the room. “Clint got us - oof!” Something rams into his front, knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“You showed up!” Steve cries, voice muffled into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Course I did, punk,” Bucky says, ruffling Steve’s hair. “Told you I wouldn’t miss it.” 

“Where’s Clint?” Steve asks, looking around like Clint might be hiding behind a chair.

“He’ll be along,” Bucky says, “Had to stop somewhere first.”

“As long as he’s here,” Steve says firmly. 

“He will be,” Bucky answers. He looks out the window, towards the old oak tree, and smiles. “He promised.”

~~

Bucky’s watching Steve walk up the aisle, grinning at the stupid lovestruck look on his best pal’s face, when movement near the back of the room catches his eye. Clint slips in, hair mussed and cheeks flushed, and catches Bucky’s eye. He winks. Bucky shakes his head, then refocuses back on the happy couple. 

Sam and Steve say their vows and get married, nary an objection to be heard. That may be partially because Bucky glares at anyone who so much as looks like they’re _ thinking _ about saying something. He has no regrets.

Later, at the feast, Clint pulls him away from talking to Maria, keeping hold of his hand until they’re outside and underneath the big oak tree. “What are we doing out here?” Bucky asks, laughing as Clint tugs him along. 

“Just play along?” Clint asks. “Please?” He lets go of Bucky’s hand and Bucky looks back at the lit-up manor, the music audible from here.

“Fine,” He says, “But this better be -” He turns around to find Clint down on one knee, ring in his hand. 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Clint starts, “I have been in love with you since before I knew what that word even meant. I made some mistakes along the way, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you."

“Clint,” Bucky starts, but Clint keeps going. 

“I’m probably gonna make more mistakes, and there’s a pretty good chance that unless Nat is in charge of everything, I’ll be late to the wedding. But if you’ll have me,” he takes a deep breath, “I’d like to be your husband. So what do you say? Will you marry me?”

Bucky stares. And he stares. And he stares some more because _ when did Clint have time to get a ring_. 

“You’re worryin’ me a little bit here, Buck,” Clint says, his grin growing a little strained. 

“You idiot,” Bucky breathes, throwing himself at Clint. He knocks him over and they both go tumbling to the ground, laughing breathlessly. “Of course I’ll marry you, Clint. Nothing would make me happier.”

Laughing with joy, Clint slides the ring onto his finger and kisses him until they’re both panting. When he pulls away - not far, but still away - he says with a grin, “Besides, you kinda owe me your hand in marriage anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the BDBD for sprinting with me through this, thanks to [my bro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish) for zir endless support, thanks to Lassa for beta'ing this and thanks to Clara, for everything she does for this amazing corner of fandom. I hope you have an amazing birthday, friend. You deserve it.
> 
> follow me on the [tweets](https://twitter.com/hawks_on_fire) and the [tumbles](https://hawksonfire.tumblr.com/)


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